I floated this on another thread but this might get some response. It's been a while since we had a song challenge. Those with an opinion on beards,folk clubs, decline therof or just talented wordsmiths- now's your chance.

Sorry, I can't quite do it for "Club with no beards". But this evening this bit came out, with almost that title:

A Club With No Beard (Lyrics: Mysha; music Gordon Parsons - A Pub with no Beer)

Folk can be strange, when you're out on the road With each night a new room, for to put down your load, But there's naught so outlandish, so not-what-it-appeared, As to stand on the floor of a club with no beard.

When you entered the pub, well, it didn't look queer The publican it seemed, was just glad to serve beer But the maid pouring soda's, that seemed a bit weird And then suddenly you realised: No-one there had a beard.

The crowd, you found out, were all barely fifteen The most captivated audience, that you ever had seen And after each song, they hollered and cheered. A club packed with kids, no-one there with a beard.

In the break they bought all the CDs that you had; Said they found you on Pinterest, on the Internet. And as could be expected: Then the mobiles appeared You were in ninety-two selfies of kids with no beard.

Then they all said goodnight, and they left there and then For, they were too young to drive, and the bus left at ten Your biggest crowd ever, but the whole club had cleared They had left you behind in that club with no beard

The break being over, you checked what to do But the place was deserted, not a soul there but you And you stood there and wondered, before you too disappeared: What a curious thing is a club with no beard.

Well, folk can be strange, when you're out on the road With each night a new room, for to put down your load, But there's naught so outlandish, so not-what-it-appeared, As to stand on the floor of a club with no beard.

With feedback like that, I'm beginning to feel that "I occasionally write something no-one else would care about." might no longer be completely accurate. I wonder what the next step on the road of song writing is: "I occasionally write something one other would care about."?

Well, a meagre response but high quality. I award both songs equal first prize. Those of you who weren't on Mudcat at the time might need to know that when Amos was coordinating the contributions to the Blue Plate Special CDs it was agreed that as my voice and washboard noodling were so awful, my contribution would be the silence between the tracks. So, lucky winner, if the phone rings and there's noone at the end of the line- that's your prize being delivered.

I would like to thank everyone here for this Roger. And especially I would like to thanks my parents, who can't be here, but who have been my biggest supporters over the years. All my life I never thought I would one day win an award like this. You know, it doesn't feel as heavy as I thought it would. But in a way you can feel its import and prestige. Somebody ought to write a song about that. I would say that, in a way, a Roger is a symbol of how we all feel about song writing: How we treasure each note of the melodies that are written for competitions like these. A Roger must stand for how we all sit together and listen to the singers who perform those songs so well. That shared moment, when we all join hands to sing along, that must be what a Roger signifies more than anything else. You've all been great. I wish I could share this Roger with each of you. Thanks for everything.

Some years ago now, the folk scene I found, The people were great, and I loved the folk sound, Went to visit a folk club, enjoyed everything, And I dreamed of the day that I'd stand up and sing. But then someone whispered, "A word in your ear ... "A man's not a folkie, without a good beard!"

You must have a beard! You must have a beard! A man's not a folkie, without a good beard!

Well I did start performing – I took that big gamble! From Manchester way, I went on a ramble, Bade farewell to Liverpool, and Swansea Town, Wondered how many roads a man has to walk down! But the other performers suspiciously peered; "He sings like a folkie, but not with a beard!"

Then I started to practise my brand new guitar, (An accordion, the wife said, was one step too far!) Well I learned how to pick, and I learned how to strum, (You do one with your fingers, and one with your thumb.) But everyone asked, "Who's this guy that's appeared? "He plays like a folkie, but minus the beard!"

You must have a beard ...

I popped into a pub that I used to frequent, Informed the landlady my sovereigns were spent, I asked for a loan, with a nod and a wink, She said to her husband, "Now what do you think?" He answered her, "Nay! His cheque might not be cleared; "He talks like a folkie, but he's got no beard!"

Then I wore leather sandals, and comfy brown cords, And a Fairport tour t-shirt from 20-04; I ate fry-ups for breakfast, and pasties for lunch, Drank plenty of ale, and I got me a paunch! But all of the others just sat there and stared ... "He's looks like a folkie, but sans any beard!"

You must have a beard ...

Well, I went down to Sidmouth, I liked it a lot, Joined in all the songs, whether I knew them or not! On the seafront I tried Morris dancing ... with bells ... 'The Blue Eyed Stranger' I got to know rather well! But the people at Sidmouth said, "This is so weird, "He acts like a folkie, but where is the beard?"

But it just wouldn't grow ... oh, I had so much trouble; I wanted a 'W. G. Grace' ... I got stubble! But ... some ladies wear lipstick and ... what's its name? And I can seek help from outside, just the same! And so, to this weekend, I've come well-prepared ... Now at last I'm a folkie, a man with a beard!

At Durham Folk Party 2015, I sang my Roger-winning entry. I left most of the words as they were in the challenge; just the wording of the following verse got slightly changed:

In the break they bought all the CDs that you had; Said they found you on Pinterest, on internet. And as could be expected: Then the smart phones appeared You were in ninety-two selfies of kids with no beard.